


Schoolgirl/Teacher

by ktula



Series: 101 Kinks (2017/2018) [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (no feminization), Electrical Play, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Roleplay, Schoolgirl Kink, corrective lecture, electrical play without prior consent, pouting but no hurt feelings, remedial education, sexy misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12875484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktula/pseuds/ktula
Summary: Kylo is invited to a Corrective Lecture in General Hux's office at 2200hrs.He grins, and sets about finding a costume.Misunderstandings ensue.





	Schoolgirl/Teacher

_**Meeting Request:** Corrective Lecture, General Hux’s Office, 2200hrs._

_**Description:** The behaviour demonstrated in today’s High Command meeting was entirely inappropriate of your station as my co-commander, and a sad representation of the power and might of the First Order. Remedial education to be provided. Come prepared._

 

Kylo is already harried when he shows up at Hux’s office—the meeting earlier that day had been bad enough, but he hadn’t exactly had time to get everything gathered together to his usual standards for this type of thing, and he’s afraid that Hux is going to laugh him right out of the office because he had to improvise everything, but he’s wanted this for so long and if he turns it down now, he might not get another chance. Kylo hasn’t done any kind of roleplay in years and he’s scared he’s lost his knack for it, but just the thought of Hux being into it is nearly enough to undo him completely.

“Hux,” he says as he enters. “I just wanted—”

“Don’t bother,” Hux says crisply. He’s staring out the viewport with his hands clasped behind his back, turning a holoscreen remote over and over in his hands. “I’d asked that you come prepared, have you?”

So Hux was just going to be his regular self, then. Fine. Whatever. (Kylo doesn’t know why he’d expected anything different.)

“Give me a minute,” Kylo grumbles as he starts undressing. He’d come prepared with an explanation—but whatever, Hux can just fucking deal with it if he’s not willing to listen.

“It is absolutely unacceptable,” Hux says, still staring out the window, “that you would be unaware of the history of the Order, and the military history of the great Empire from which we came. As I won’t have you embarrass me in front of High Command again, I’ve prepared this presentation so that I can educate you. The presentation is scheduled to last for seventy two minutes, after which there are eighteen minutes for any questions you’ve dredged up within that time period. I’ve left a datapad and stylus at the desk, as I assume your own is broken, and expect not to be interrupted while I’m speaking and—why is your mask off?”

Kylo looks up at Hux. He’s staring at Kylo, face pale and lips pulled into a tight line, which—well, whatever. If Hux didn’t want to see Kylo get changed, then he should have stayed staring out his fucking viewport.

He tosses his helmet onto Hux’s desk just to hear it clank, and sets to work unwrapping his cowl.

There is colour rising from Hux’s neck all the way up into his face. It’s not that flattering, but that’s fine. Kylo can use his imagination.

He drops his cowl on the floor, yanks the cape off his shoulders, pulls off the neckguard and shakes his head to rearrange his hair. Then he starts pulling his surcoat over his head.

“I don’t—what—Ren, I— _Ren_.”

Kylo gets the surcoat off, drops it on the floor next to the cowl, and shoves the entire mess away with his foot so he doesn’t get tripped up once he switches shoes. “What,” he says flatly, fingers searching out the hidden zipper on his undertunic.

“This is a lecture,” Hux says, voice rising in tone like it always does when he’s particularly affronted by something. “The purpose of this is for you to pay attention, not to—not to attempt to distract me with nudity.”

Kylo snorts, continues taking off his undertunic. “Well, I’m not getting completely naked, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I can't—I can’t be tempted, I am not susceptible, this is—this—thing. Whatever it is you’re doing. It’s ineffective.”

Kylo drops the undertunic on the ground, pulls down his leggings down and yanks them off with his boots, starts pulling the other sets of boots on and doing up the buckles. The fucking things are awkward, which is why he’d shelved them years ago—six inch platforms are great for cantinas but they’re fucking brutal for combat, and Kylo's doing way more of the latter these days, and doesn't remember the last time he stepped foot in the former.

He tightens the last buckle and straightens up, adjusts his suspenders. He’s towering over Hux now, but that doesn’t stop Hux from scowling at him.

“It’s short notice, and you wouldn’t let me explain.” Kylo says tartly. “So you’ll have to manage with the inaccuracy.”

“The … the inaccuracy of what?” Hux says. His fingers twitch at his sides, and his face is back to white. “I don’t understand.”

“The costume.” Kylo stomps over and grabs the chair from behind Hux’s desk, drags it, screeching across the floor, and sits down in it, legs together. He forgets to sweep his hand down his ass to gather the skirt underneath himself, winces as his balls touch the cold chair. “I’d been thinking about doing this myself, but hadn’t yet determined how to phrase it, so I’m glad you took the initiative.” Kylo chews at his lip a moment, considers whether he should address Hux as ‘Hux’, like usual, or go straight for ‘Armitage’. Maybe it’s too early for that—but then, maybe it was too early for the compliment too. “Anyways,” he says. “I’m ready. Go ahead and get started.”

Silence.

“Is this a sex thing?” Hux’s voice is slightly higher-pitched than normal, and he’s staring at Kylo’s torso where the suspenders cross over the mesh covering his abs.

Kylo laughs. “ _Hux_. You know I don’t care about the political side of it, what the kriff were you expecting when you scheduled a meeting this late at night?”

Hux’s face is pale now, with red spots high on his cheeks, fingers drumming distractedly at his thigh, but he doesn’t respond, just looks over to the projection screen which is literally displaying a family tree of … oh.

Kylo’s stomach twists. He reaches out with the Force, just to check, and there’s nothing in Hux’s mind except—except confusion, and a mental rehearsal of the lecture, and something else crawling to the surface, and Kylo cuts the connection before he has a chance to see what else Hux is thinking about, because he wants nothing to do with it, because he’s _fucked_  it up again, and now Hux is never going to take him seriously. Any gains he’s made over the past few years are fucking decimated now, because Kylo’s an idiot that leapt at an opportunity to fuck around with his co-commander, and— _fuck_  fuck fuck _fuck_.

Kylo scowls, stands up and shoves Hux’s chair back with the Force until it bangs against his desk, bends down, and starts undoing the stupid ridiculous boots. He can’t believe he let himself get his hopes up, that he shamed himself in front of Hux like this. Of course Hux doesn’t have a roleplay fetish, that’s way too fucking normal for anyone as deeply indoctrinated into the First Order as Hux is. Kylo was just—hoping, and now he’s devastated, and this has been such a waste of—a waste of his time and his effort and he’ll never be able to recover from this, Hux will laugh at him every time he sees him.

“Hey,” Hux says softly, and his voice is suddenly close.

Kylo tips his head up to look, and they both startle back a little. With the boots on, Kylo’s head is higher than it would be normally, his face right at Hux’s chest, and Hux is—Hux is so small like this.

“Is this a sex thing?” Hux repeats, his voice hardly carrying.

“Look,” Kylo snaps, going back to the buckles on his boots. “I clearly misinterpreted your asanine fucking request because I forgot that you derive joy from being a pedantic, soulless robot. I thought this was the next best progression of our relationship, seeing as we fight all the time and we might as well fuck too, but I forgot you’re not a person, you probably just—stick a plug up that impossibly tight ass and go into power standby at night. I just want to get these fucking boots off and get the fuck out of here, so would you just go back to staring out the viewport again, please?”

(He’s going to have to destroy the security footage right away, before Hux has a chance to download any local copies of it.)

“Don’t,” Hux says.

“What?”

“Don’t take off the boots,” Hux says, a little more crisply.

Kylo looks up at him.

Hux has turned back to the projector, is flipping through his presentation, back and forth between slides.

Kylo gives up on the buckles, crosses his arms over his chest, and glares at the perfectly styled back of Hux’s head.

Hux settles on a slide, and then walks over to the corner of his office, picks up a chair, and sets it down a respectable distance away from Kylo. Then he sits down, back straight, perfectly at attention, and clasps his hands in his lap.

“Explain it to me.”

“What?”

“It’s a sex thing,” Hux says. “I don’t get it. Explain it to me. Is this a New Republic thing?”

Kylo snorts despite himself. “Probably. Everybody I’ve ever fucked from the First Order has been into spanking, and caning, and—”

“That’s it, I know,” Hux says, and there’s a glint in his eyes, the start of that same fervent glint that he gets during speeches. “But you’re making it sound like there’s more.”

“You’re making fun of me,” Kylo says, his voice heated again, just like the heat that’s creeping up his face. “You can’t possibly be like this.”

“Explain it to me,” Hux says.

“You called it a corrective lecture! Remedial education!” The words burst out of Kylo’s mouth before he was really prepared for them to leave. “What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“Okay,” Hux says. “And those are … those are sex words. _Corrective lecture. Remedial education_.”

Kylo is going to die, listening to Hux repeat those phrases in that fucking accent, those perfect lips moving around the sounds, tongue just barely visible.

“So you … so you read the invite,” Hux continues. “And you showed up dressed in an outfit. A costume.” His piercing eyes sweep over Kylo’s body, and Kylo feels warm all over again. “You said it was inaccurate.”

Kylo exhales through his nose. Trust Hux to focus on the deficiencies. “Traditionally, one would wear a pleated skirt, not a kilt. Plaid, not black ... heels, instead of platform boots. Cute white button-up shirt, tie that matches the skirt, not—” He gestures to his own chest, which is just his regular crop top with the mesh at the bottom and suspenders.

Hux’s eyes follow his fingers, his gaze dragging down Kylo’s torso.

“It’s a kriffing schoolgirl outfit,” Kylo says finally. “How do you not know this?”

“It’s not part of approved First Order curriculum,” Hux says. His eyes are tracking all over Kylo’s body, and he’s staring at Kylo’s chest, at Kylo’s abs, at Kylo’s shoulders, at where his nipples would be if they were visible through his shirt. “Why a girl?”

Kylo exhales heavily. “I don’t know, Hux. It’s traditional. Schoolgirl and teacher.”

“Mmmm,” Hux says. “So all New Republic girls wear this to school?” He’s thinking so loudly about Kylo’s chest that it’s making Kylo hard, and he shifts in his seat, hoping the cold chair against his balls will help calm him down some, because this is going to be awkward in a few minutes. (As though it isn’t already.)

“No, Hux, _fuck_ ,” Kylo says. “Can I leave now?” He regrets asking for permission the moment the words exit his mouth, but also, maybe if he asks, maybe if he pretends submission, maybe Hux will just let him go and be more inclined to never speak about this again.

“No,” Hux says. He’s still staring, and his hands have moved to his knees, where his fingers are pinching and pulling at the fabric of his jodhpurs. “Show me how this is sexy for you.”

“Pardon?”

“You said this was sexy. Show me.”

“What,” Kylo says. “You want me to jack off? Right here?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hux says fervently, and that fanatical glint is back in his eyes. “Yes. In your … in your school outfit. Show me.”

Kylo sighs, reaches under the waistband of his kilt and palms himself. He’s not willing to drag his dick out when it’s still soft, and he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to get hard under such clinical circumstances, and then Hux’s—oh, hell, Hux’s tongue darts over his lips, just briefly. Hux is staring at Kylo’s hand moving under his skirt, and Hux is swallowing so hard that Kylo can see his throat moving, and Hux is—Hux is shifting on his chair, widening his legs just a bit, and it turns out getting hard is not going to be a problem.

“This is the part where the roleplay aspect would come in,” Kylo says, stroking himself under the kilt. He's here, he might as well go for it even though he’s still expecting Hux to completely fuck this up.

Hux looks—Hux looks enraptured. “Oh?”

“As my teacher, you would—you would tell me what I’m supposed to do, or how I’m supposed to do it. I’m—I’m here to improve my grade, or make up for a failed exam, or recover from—”

“—a very basic question from High Command which you managed to absolutely botch?” Hux looks up from where he’s been staring at Kylo’s hand, and fucking _winks_  at him.

Kylo scowls, knows his face is bright red now. “Whatever, Hux.”

“Because you absolutely did fuck that up,” Hux says, and he’s standing up now, pushing his chair back, and smoothing the placard of his jacket back down over his hips, and Kylo cannot see a fucking thing, and he growls under his breath, squeezes his cock and thrusts his hips up a little.

Hux walks stiffly back to his desk, starts rummaging in one of the drawers. “It was a very basic question, and you should have known the answer.”

Kylo tips his head back against the top of the chair. “Well,” he growls, “I didn’t.” He lets go of his cock, yanks his hand out of his skirt, is just about to lean down and start removing his boots when Hux slams his desk drawer shut.

Kylo jumps in spite of himself.

“As your … superior,” Hux says, the slight tremor in his voice so atypical that Kylo’s not even certain he heard it. “It would … behoove you to—to continue doing something that I’ve told you to do.” He clears his throat, continues in a more normal voice. “Put your hand back down your pants, Kylo. Pull it out.”

Kylo rolls his eyes, puts his hand down his skirt, and then pulls it out again, spreads his fingers out like he’s about to do a Force throw.

“Don’t be a shit,” Hux says, and he’s standing right behind Kylo now, tapping something metallic absently on the back of the chair. “Pull out your cock, and touch yourself where I can see you.”

“This would have been easier five minutes ago,” Kylo grouches. He reaches down into his pants, and then sets about the task of attempting to pull his fully erect cock out above the waistband without popping any of the fasteners on his kilt.

“I see what you mean,” Hux breathes into Kylo’s ear. “That’s rather ungainly, isn’t it?”

“Shut it,” Kylo says. “I know what I’m doing with it.”

“It’s managed to make your hand look _small_.”

“Would you fucking stop,” Kylo says. “Look, I’ll just bring myself off, and then you’ve had your fun, and I’ve had an orgasm, and we can just move on with our lives.”

“But your inability to answer basic questions,” Hux drawls. “And your failing grades,” he adds, as an afterthought. “They’re … bad.”

Kylo groans in spite of himself, grips his cock a little harder. Shuts his eyes in an attempt to just forget Hux is there, tries to think about—hell, something else. Anything else, other than—

“Who was Grand Moff Tarkin’s immediate successor?”

“For _fuck’s sake_ , Hux, I’m trying—”

The pain is so sudden that it completely surprises Kylo, and he shrieks, jerks forward to protect his exposed dick, and slides off the chair to land on the floor, latches onto the Force and—

Hux is _chuckling_.

As Kylo looks up at him, Hux grins, flexes his hand, palm extended toward Kylo in a parody of the same technique Kylo uses to stop blaster bolts. “It’s rather lovely, isn’t it?”

“ _What the fuck did you just_ —”

“Handheld shock device,” Hux says. The little metal cylinder is mounted to Hux’s index finger, easily concealed as long as he keeps his palm down. “I’ve never had the opportunity to use it before, but it’s worked really quite well for this.”

“Discipline in roleplay is typically done with a ruler,” Kylo says through gritted teeth.

“Well,” Hux says casually, “I didn’t have one of those. I just have this. Mark it down as one of your little _deficiencies_.” He clears his throat. “The correct answer is Cassio Tagge, though he took the title of Grand General, so it could be argued that it wasn’t really a succession, persay, so much as it was a way to fill the unanticipated gap caused by Grand Moff Tarkin’s demise.”

“I—”

“Keep going,” Hux says, and he taps the metal cylinder against the back of the chair three times. “Sit down. I’m still not quite convinced this is any good for you, you know.” Hux looks down at Kylo’s cock, half-soft against his stomach, and raises one of his eyebrows. “It doesn’t look like you’re enjoying it.”

Kylo rolls his eyes, picks himself up off the floor, and sits back down in the chair, remembering to tuck his skirt under himself this time. “I was enjoying it just fine until you zapped me,” he mutters—but he puts his hand back on his cock anyways, squeezes his eyes shut and starts stroking himself, not entirely certain whether he’s enjoying this or not, but unwilling to leave without the orgasm he was after when he got here, he’s not going to let Hux being a straight-laced First Order indoctrinated robot keep him from actually—

—Kylo’s eyes fly open when Hux’s hand touches his neck.

“This is nice,” Hux murmurs into his ear. “You put so much effort into this. I wish you would put half this much effort into everything else.”

Kylo inhales shakily, grips his cock a little harder. He doesn’t know what to do with his other hand, rubs it on his knee, rucks his skirt up and curls his hand around his own inner thigh, and then, finally, when the pressure Hux is placing on his neck lessens, Kylo reaches up with his other hand and grabs Hux’s wrist in his own, holds it against his neck so that Hux can’t get away.

“I hardly think that’s appropriate behaviour,” Hux says stiffly.

“Hux, please,” Kylo whines. “Hux, I—goddamn it, is this enough of an indicator for you? Does it look like I’m enjoying myself now?”

Hux grips the back of Kylo’s neck in his hand, squeezes gently as though Kylo is … a loth-cat, or something. “Who signed the Galactic Concordance?”

“Easy,” Kylo scoffs, arching back a little as he continues to jack himself off. He’s starting to get close now, and if Hux is going to start giving him easy questions, maybe he can just hurry this entire procedure along. “Grand Vizier Mas Amedda, and Chancellor Mon Mothma. It’s my—his—birthday, Hux, you don’t honestly think I wouldn’t—aaaaaaahhh—”

Hux tugs his hand out of Kylo’s grip, drags the metal cylinder along the back of Kylo’s neck without shocking him. “Good,” he purrs. “What year was the Military Disarmament Act signed?”

“Four years after the Battle of Yavin.” He’s so close, he’s so close, he’s so close—

“Describe the Tarkin Initiative,” Hux says.

Kylo calculates the information quickly—how close he is to orgasm (very) against how much he knows about the Tarkin Initiative (nothing) and decides to hedge his bets, gripping his cock tighter and stroking faster as he starts talking, just slightly slower than usual. “The Tarkin Initiative? The Tarkin Initiative—is—the Tarkin Initiative—”

He almost makes it, but the electricity hits right as the orgasm does, and Kylo yelps, twitching forward again just in time for his ejaculate to hit him in his own eye. He manages to stay seated in the chair, but doesn’t get his face wiped off quick enough to avoid his left eye burning like a son of a bitch. He blinks the tears out of his eyes, shudders through the last of his orgasm, and looks over at Hux.

Hux looks back at him, and _smiles_ , actually smiles, his face lit up with sheer enjoyment—and then he seems to realize what his face is doing and immediately ducks his head, fumbles with the zapper still attached to his hand.

“Do you want—” Kylo asks. He’s looking at Hux, but he—can’t tell, with the way Hux is standing, with the cut of his uniform, he doesn’t know if he’s had any effect at all …

“The, uh. Ninety minutes were up five minutes ago,” Hux says softly.

“Let me—”

“I wasn’t prepared for this,” Hux says, and when he looks back at Kylo, he’s got his military face on again, sour and tight. “I’m not—this is it.” His face softens fractionally, just at the corners of his eyes. “This is fine. I have—I have somewhere to be.”

Kylo scowls at the floor as Hux retreats—and then there’s a pause, more footsteps, and suddenly Hux is leaning down and—holy _fuck_ , Hux is kissing him, Hux is—Hux’s lips are soft and his mouth is open and there’s—and his _tongue_  is in Kylo’s mouth and Kylo arches up into it, and it’s fucking amazing, _General Armitage Hux is kissing him_ , his elegant hands cupping the sides of Kylo’s face and his tongue licking into Kylo’s mouth and his fingers scritching gently in Kylo’s hair and just as soon as it’s started, Hux has pulled away again and it’s over.

“Thank you for explaining,” Hux says, a little awkwardly. He turns sharply on his heel, and is gone.

Kylo touches the corner of his mouth with his fingers.

He can still taste Hux on his lips.

 

_**Meeting Request:** Corrective Lecture (Tarkin Initiative), General Hux’s Office, 2000hrs._

_**Description:** The behaviour demonstrated in the last meeting, while satisfactory and pleasurable, did not full conform to the standard parameters of how these types of meetings are generally conducted, according to preliminary research (source: Holonet). Additional remedial education is required. Come prepared. Extra credit may be earned for enthusiastic performance. Oral skills to be tested, as well as receptivity to a firm hand and rigid member. Ability to switch positions while still remembering one’s role an asset. Demonstration of both independent and collaborative learning will occur. Be prompt, as the meeting may run over time. As such, scheduling additional activities for the remainder of the evening is not advised, and may be a punishable offense._

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You'd better believe Hux is finding a tailor to custom-make a cadet outfit for Kylo.
> 
> It's heavy on the sock garters and the suspenders, extraordinarily short in the shorts, and somehow, the button-up shirt that traditionally goes with such an outfit has gone missing. (These things happen.)
> 
> Hux has also purchased a new ruler (metal, whippy). After all, he's not about to give up his zapper--not when he's finally found a use for the kriffing thing.


End file.
